


38th Batch

by Cyberrat



Series: Fic Batches [38]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game), Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions, Stardew Valley (Video Game), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Cock & Ball Torture, Deepthroating, F/M, Femdom, M/M, Oviposition, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadism, Sexual Harassment, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:48:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 19,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25692331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberrat/pseuds/Cyberrat
Summary: ch.1 Endeavor/Hawks | ch.2 McCree/Reaper | ch.3 McCree/Hanzo | ch.4 McCree/Hanzo | ch.5 Sigma/DVa | ch.6 Hawks/Endeavor | ch.7 Hawks/Endeavor | ch.8 Baptiste/Sigma | ch.9 Elliott/Farmer | ch.10 McCree/Hanzo | ch.11 Shane/Monster  ch.12 Sigma/Sombra | ch.13 Rose/Kabu | ch.14 Hanzo/Dragons | ch.15 Shimadacest | ch.16 Shimadacest
Relationships: Elliott/Male Player (Stardew Valley), Genji Shimada/Hanzo Shimada, Hana "D.Va" Song/Sigma | Siebren De Kuiper, Hanzo Shimada/Sojiro Shimada, Jean-Baptiste Augustin/Sigma | Siebren de Kuiper, Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Jesse McCree/Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Kabu/Rose | Chairman Rose, Sigma | Siebren de Kuiper/Sombra | Olivia Colomar, Takami Keigo | Hawks/Todoroki Enji | Endeavor
Series: Fic Batches [38]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1268996
Comments: 14
Kudos: 184





	1. Endeavor/Hawks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Endeavor/Hawks – teacher/student AU; teacher!Endeavor; student!Hawks; blackmail; sexual harassment; himbo!Endeavor – Endeavor gets bullied by his students. One in particular :)
> 
> (TW: Enji calls Hawks a ‘kid’ in his head)

The class has been deathly quiet for the last ten minutes of the lesson, everybody focused on the work Enji has given them. He stands at the front of the class, overseeing their bend heads, and making sure nobody is being disruptive as they go through their work.

He can swear that in the corner of his eyes he can see Hawks staring at him, but whenever he turns around, the boy’s head is bend like those of his classmates around him, dishevelled delinquent hair on display.

Enji feels… watched. He can feel perspiration beading on his upper lip, hyper aware of Hawks’ attention and unable to do anything about it. The kid is too quick for his own good.

Now that he is aware of the bird eyes digging into him whenever his head is turned, he also becomes aware of the many other eyes that surreptitiously stick to his body when he is not looking in their direction.

It occurs to Enji that they are playing with him, led by Hawks, of course.

Flames start to lick at his jaw. He tries not to let it get to him, to remain calm and unaffected, but it becomes nigh impossible when he finds one of the boys, a giraffe-hybrid unabashedly staring at Enji’s chest.

Others begin staring as well, now that the ruse is up. Sweat prickles along his hairline and beneath his arms now. He clears his throat, intent on calling the delinquents out on it when something in his peripheral catches his attention.

He looks down where the slip of dark red had wiggled around and stares at the small red feather that is currently sliding along the line of buttons from his shirt. His mouth opens, head empty.

The little feather finds the weakest link with the utmost ease. Enji knows he should have trashed the white dress shirt ages ago; it is one of his oldest. He’s bulked up considerably since purchasing it.

The sharp edges of the feather only need to give the slightest suggestion to the fiber. The button springs off with the viciousness of a bullet, zinging almost two feet before clattering against the shell of a student. Only a breath later, the other buttons follow, tumbling with little crisp sounds to the floor as Enji’s pectoral muscles pretty much spill out of his ruined shirt, bouncing slightly after finally being freed from the desperately straining material.

There is complete silence in the room. Enji is painfully aware of all the eyes staring at his pectoral muscles; the candy pink tips of his nipples. The flames spluttering on and off before his chest and face catches fire and he roars: “Ouuuuuut!”

Chairs scratch over the floor and tumble down, feet running as the class flees from Endeavor’s wrath.

The door gently falls closed after the last of them.

Enji, burning with humiliation, turns, staring at Hawks who is still sitting at his desk, chin in his hand, grinning at him with insolence.

Enji’s flames start to fizzle out despite him trying to keep them up. More of Hawks’ feathers are fluttering around him now. The kid’s way too skilled with his Quirk.

He can feel the feathers curling around his pecs. It almost feels like two hands grabbing and squeezing them. A thick pearl of sweat drips along Enji’s temple.

“Out,” he rasps, voice shot. He can’t tolerate this blatant insubordination, but Hawks is grinning now and one of his feathers is starting to pluck at his nipples, getting them painfully hard and tingling.

“Sure, sensei,” Hawks drawls in that infuriating way of his. “Right after I had you on my cock.”

.o.

He makes good on his… threat? Of course he does.

Enji isn’t sure how he ended up on his desk, legs in the air, bouncing like a slut, a young man between his thighs and his greedy mouth on his nipples.

His head is hot and empty and for once it is not his flames that are causing the rapid rise of temperature. It’s all Hawks, the kid playing his body like a goddamn fiddle and looking lazy smug as he does so.

As if he’s had a million Heroes like Endeavor spreading themselves open for him, just lining up and waiting to have this kid with the thin chest and bird eyes spear them with his cock.

Enji throws an arm over his eyes. He tries to not make a sound, but Hawks is driving in deep and relentless, cock hitting his prostate in rude coltish thrusts that have him light up from the inside like a Christmas Tree.

Hawks pulls off his pec with a lewd slurp. There’s a string of saliva still connecting his greedy mouth to the candy pink tip. Enji can see it from beneath his arm. He is peeking, of course. He tries to be stoic, but…

Hawks is grinning at him now, both hands on his chest, grabbing and squeezing and pushing the muscles together rudely.

“You got the best tits, Endeavor-sensei!”

Enji’s humiliation knows no bounds, apparently. His insides squeeze down like a vice on the kid’s cock. Hawks goes almost cross eyed. His feet jerk in the air. Somehow he finds a voice to growl: “I do not have _tits_!”

He feels so scandalized and self-righteous that he almost has the strength to push Hawks away from him. Let the young man’s cock slide out of his greedy body and have this be the last time that he’s let himself get humiliated by this delinquent.

But Hawks is laughing at him and swinging a hand that comes down on Enji’s massive, muscular thigh with a gusto that has his eyes roll back into his head. The sharp pain of the slap radiates through his body and has his cock dribble just a bit more.

“Sure, Endeavor-sensei! Sorry, sorry!”

He does not sound sorry at all. He sounds like he will call them _tits_ again soon. Like he will go out to his friends after pumping his seed deep into his teacher, and giggle with them about Endeavor-sensei’s great big udders. Like they will high-five and talk about it for the rest of the day. The rest of the week, maybe.

Enji would not be surprised if they somehow managed to capture a video of his humiliation. If it wouldn’t find its way into the internet.

That is… that would happen if he angered Hawks.

If he wouldn’t let himself get pushed onto his back by a man the third of his body mass. If he wouldn’t let himself get fucked like a harlot, hole swollen and burning from being used every day. Twice, three times if Hawks manages to sneak to him between classes, horny and needy, balls always full and ready to deliver.

At least Hawks always talks about those videos. Those pictures. Enji has never seen them. But he also has little to no technical know-how.

So he just bends over and spreads his legs.

It’s easier that way.

It’s not like he enjoys being reduced into a cum dump for one of his students.

It’s not like that.

Hawks’ fingers find his nipples and squeeze them something fierce, twisting until the twin points of pain shoot through Endeavor in two very clear, very sharp sensations that ricochet through his body and end in his cock lying fat and swollen on his belly.

He starts to come hard, cock twitching, flexing, shooting out fat ropes of cum that land on his white dress shirt and smear into his chest hair.

Doesn’t matter.

His shirt was ruined anyway.


	2. McCree/Reaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Reyes – werewolf!Jesse; past abuse – Gabriel found a werewolf in Deadlock.
> 
> (This was a fic that I was given permission to choose whatever I wanted to write. So I wrote a bit of a werewolf McReyes with a bittersweet ending)

As mayhem still rages behind Gabriel, he kicks open the door to one of the barns and shines a quick light inside, just to be thorough. The worst of the mission is already over, and at the moment they’re only mopping up the last Deadlock stragglers. They’re not many at this point but all the more vicious for it.

He almost misses the cowering shadow in the corner, but when the beam of his small flashlight swipes over it, it does a curious jerking motion, alerting him that there indeed were living things in here.

He clicks on his mic.

“Search the barns.”

“Copy.”

He slowly makes his way inside, careful where he steps. There’s not much in the way of… anything, really. Whoever, or whatever, has been kept here has dragged all the straw into its corner for a makeshift bed.

The stench inside is unbelievable. Gabriel can just about keep from gagging. He pulls the scarf up over his nose and mouth, slowly rounding to the other side of the creature to get a better look.

It turns around now, chains softly clinking. He pulls a face when he sees the half-transformed werewolf eying him distrustfully. Gabriel pulls a face.

“Ah goddamn it. Shit.”

He slowly lowers himself into a crouch still plenty away from the creature, and keeping the light down to the ground so he can see him but isn’t directly shining on him.

“Easy now. We’re here to help you, alright?”

They hadn’t known about the gang having a werewolf, but it would explain the particular kind of butchery that they had always left in the wake of gang skirmishes. Doesn’t look like the bloke was a willing participant, though.

“Can you talk?” Gabriel asks, eying the half-transformed muzzle. The wolf slowly shakes his head. “That’s okay. Can I come over? I won’t hurt you. You’re safe now. Overwatch got you.”

.o.

It’s difficult to make the trek deep into the woods, but Gabriel still tries to make the time at least once every two months. Being the Blackwatch Commander means that work naturally swamps him. Getting out here is just as much self-care as it is him looking after Jesse.

He knows the wolf is close. He can feel his heavy steps lightly vibrating through the forest floor, even if he can’t see him yet. He’s pretty sure Jesse has been able to smell him the moment he got out of his car, but instead of greeting him like a normal person, he still tries to sneak up on him despite it having become difficult just a couple years into their arrangement: Jesse has grown into an impossibly big brute.

There’s a hut hidden against the side of the mountain. Gabriel navigates to it with the help of a compass, pretending like he hasn’t been on to Jesse for a while. Every now and then he can see a huge shadow in the corner of his eyes.

Eventually, he does fall into stride right next to Gabriel. Why now suddenly is beyond him, but he also doesn’t question it. He reaches out, fingers carding through the thick fur on top of Jesse’s head.

The wolf pushes into the touch, his huge maw opening to show a rows of sharp, wicked looking teeth, long tongue flopping out as he pants.

He’s a far cry from the pitiful creature Gabriel had dragged out of that barn three years ago. Having been kept in the half-dark for so long, Jesse had almost lost the ability to properly change at will. Thankfully he had been able to relearn it.

“Got the weekend,” Gabriel murmurs apropos of nothing, eyes searching for the cabin appearing in between the trees. “So you can show me all the things you’ve found since last time.”

Jesse makes a low growling sound. He seems very pleased.

The cabin finally comes into view. Gabriel takes his hand off of Jesse just in time for the wolf to transform. The fur recedes, but not as much as it would for other werewolves Gabriel has met.

Jesse is a hirsute bastard.

He’s also grown goddamn _tall_ , Gabriel realizes when they’re able to look easily eye to eye. Jesse is grinning. There’s something easily self-assured about his being that hasn’t been there in a long while. He looks… content with himself.

Gabriel briefly looks him up and down, taking in the strong muscles that living in the mountains has given him. It looks like he’s spending most of his time running through the woods.

“Come,” he drawls, large hand curling around Gabriel’s wrist to gently pull him along. Jesse doesn’t talk much as far as Gabriel knows, and his voice is nice and deep. It’s not the first time Gabriel thinks that he would fit nicely into society if he only made an effort to put himself together enough to do so… but Jesse has never looked too happy with the suggestion.

_I like bein’ alone. And havin’ you visit me_.

Jesse’s cabin looks surprisingly put together. Maybe he’s started spending more time in it after all.

Gabriel puts his backpack away, then spends time with Jesse outside, sitting in front of the little house and enjoying nature with Jesse sitting close enough to eventually put his head on Gabriel’s shoulder.

Being so hirsute it is easy to forget just how young Jesse really is. Gabriel sometimes thinks about it in between missions; thoughts of Jesse hit him randomly when he least expects them. They always flood him with feelings of guilt.

He would never have let Jesse get away with living his life out here if Gabriel hadn’t taken an immediate liking to the resilience he’s shown, shackled in a barn in Deadlock Gorge. Jack is quick to remind him of the fact.

Had Jesse been anybody else, he would have been put in a home or with a foster family or at the very least in a facility that would look after him every once in a while and made sure he would integrate himself back into society.

Gabriel knows Jesse would have loathed it. He needs to be free. Needs to hunt and kill.

Be his own man. And nobody else’s. _Not even Gabriel’s_.

Jesse turns his head minimally, his hot breath fanning over Gabriel’s throat. It makes him hyper aware of the young man’s proximity.

Jesse reaches over and curls his big hand with the dirty nails around Gabriel’s, holding carefully on.

It reminds Gabriel yet again just how young Jesse is, and, at the bottom line, how lonely. There are no other humans or werewolves around to keep him company.

Gabriel closes his eyes and puts his cheek against the top of Jesse’s head, inhaling his thick scent.

Maybe he can stay a little longer.


	3. McCree/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Hanzo – tw past rape/mind break; dark/yandere Jesse – things get... better for Hanzo?
> 
> Prequel: B37F2  
> Sequel: B39F1

As bullets flew and guys died, nobody thought of the pony tethered to a stake behind one of the trailers. Nobody but Jesse. He does not run but his long legs eat the ground easily as he makes his way over.

He’s hyper aware of who is where around him – none of them pose any danger. They’re drunk bastards who would have bullets in their heads sooner or later.

Hanzo is pulling at the short chain tethering him to the stake. Jesse can hear his short cries; almost like a bleating sheep. He might be fucked up beyond repair, but he does understand that he’s facing death inevitably; either a stray bullet or the slow agonizing demise on that godforsaken stake.

Jesse ducks down behind the trailer. They’re safe here for the moment, unless one of the drunk bastards stumbles here on accident. Jesse does not plan on staying long enough to figure it out.

“Shush… shush. All’s good. Calm the fuck down,” Jesse croons as he squats down next to Hanzo. The pony stands stock still, whole body trembling. There’s a widening circle of dark wet sand beneath him where he pissed himself in fear. Jesse clucks his tongue but doesn’t reprimand him. Poor animal couldn’t do anything about it, probably.

He reaches for the clasps of the bondage holding Hanzo’s arms and legs bound together, but the sound he makes when they finally move out of position is so blood curdling that even Jesse gets a bit nauseous.

In the grand scheme of things, though, there are so many screams echoing through the Gorge at the moment that Hanzo really doesn’t register much.

The pony is openly sobbing now, crumbled to the floor, limbs akimbo. Jesse brushes over his filthy hair.

“‘S alright. Gonna be a whole lot better in a few days, okay? Come on. Uncle Jesse’s gonna spirit ya away. Life can only get better, huh?”

He tries to find the hook to get Hanzo away from the chain. At one point they exchanged the leather collar with a metal one. Jesse can’t find a clasp so he grabs his gun and drapes himself over Hanzo’s back, arms around him to try and make sure he won’t make any sudden movement as he shoots the lock of the chain at the stake.

Hanzo is now very quiet but shaking. He doesn’t make a sound as Jesse gathers him up to carry him toward the ride he’s secured earlier. He’s a heavy sonoffabitch but not as heavy as he had been in the beginning. Not being able to move around much or work out in any way has diminished his muscles.

“Don’t gotta worry your pretty li’l head,” Jesse growls, eyes everywhere at once. “Uncle Jesse’s got ya.”

.o.

Jesse’s always thought retirement would eventually look like this: him in a private little cottage getting waited on hand and foot by a hot chick or something that’ll put a cold beer at his elbow and then sit on his lap to ride him as he drunk it.

What he’s got going now is not too far off from that. Their private little cottage is a run-down shack, but Jesse is working away on it every day just a little.

They got two cows, a goat and a donkey that Shimada is surprisingly fond of. He spends most of his day with them, taking care of their needs. Jesse lets him be; he figures the little pony can use the exercise. The first few weeks had been… difficult, after all.

Jesse had tried to use him, but Shimada had been screaming his head off from the pain in his limbs, so he’s let him be for the most part. While the other guys in the Gorge got off on that shit, he did not. Jesse’s a simple guy. He’s happy as long as he can stick his dick in something warm and wet. He doesn’t need it to be in agony to get it up.

Jesse drives out to the nearest town to get supplies every once in a while. The first few times he’d tethered Hanzo’s chain to the side of the barn, long enough so he could roam around just as freely as the beasts.

One time he did not tether him, heart pounding the whole damn way. When he got back and saw Hanzo there as if nothing was amiss, he figured the bastard had no idea that he even had the option to run – which suits Jesse just fine.

As a boon for good behavior, Jesse gives him the shampoo he’s brought from the store and hoses him down behind the little barn they have. Afterwards he has him sit down so Jesse can brush his hair while smoking one of the new cigars he got for himself. It’s as domestic as it can get for an ex gang member, and Jesse enjoys every goddamn second of it.

Shimada doesn’t talk to him, but he does not seem… hostile, at least. Jesse’s no psychiatrist or anything that fancy. he doesn’t know if Shimada forgot how to be a human, or whether he figures he doesn’t need to talk to get his hole stuffed, but as far as Jesse is concerned he seems… happy with his lot in life.

“‘S easier than makin’ sure daddy’s happy with ya,” he muses one evening as he has Hanzo lying over his lap, two thick fingers slowly stretching his hole, listening to Shimada’s deep breathing… feeling how nice and heavy he is, not struggling at all as Jesse rubs his rough fingertips into the soft, silky insides of his intestines.

Hanzo doesn’t react to Jesse’s assumption, but he has a feeling he is still listening to him – though he wouldn’t be able to pinpoint what makes him think that.

“Don’t gotta do much, do ya? Jus’ make sure the animals are nice ‘n happy and get your cunt spread whenever I get horny. Not that bad of a life.” He twists his wrist, eyes heavy lidded, fingers sliding in deep again, looking for that cute swollen gland that he suspects has gone sorely underused during his stay in the Gorge.

It’s criminal, since Hanzo sounds so nice when someone makes a bit of love to it. Like he’ll shoot off like a rocket; voice all rough and surprised, fingers clawing at Jesse’s pants, babbling like a lemur without any real words but all the meaning anyway.

If Jesse pauses to think he’ll find that these days Hanzo gets off more often than he does. It’s alright. He doesn’t keep a tally.

Hanzo is still wearing his collar, the remnants of the chain gently clinking and posing a constant backdrop to their shenanigans. Jesse doesn’t think he’ll get it off of him any time soon. It’s comforting to know that he’ll always have something to keep Hanzo close by and discourage him from fleeing. Though he does not think Shimada really wants to run.

When Jesse first met Hanzo, he’s been at the very bottom of the food chain, scrabbling for any scraps the other guys would throw him. Now he is his own man, with a pretty little fuck doll that belongs to him.

Life can’t get better, can it?


	4. McCree/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Hanzo – past rape mentioned; catching feels – 10 years later...
> 
> Prequel: B26F10

Hanzo is sitting at the window, looking out into the darkness of the garden as he slowly, methodically brushes his glossy black hair. Jesse’s seen him do it enough times that the sight has burned into his brain. He could close his eyes and still know the exact way the muscles and tendons in Hanzo’s arm move.

Jesse chews on his tongue. He desperately wants a cigar but he’s tried again to stop the habit. He doesn’t like to smoke during Hanzo’s pregnancies. Or around their kids. But damn he wants something to suck and chew on while he watches the little bitch make himself pretty; sitting there, robe spilling around him, looking pale and absolutely beautiful.

Hanzo’s belly is tight and showing off hints of abs. Jesse’s mouth waters. He wants to bite it. He wants to get it big and swollen.

He must have moved or made a sound or some shit because Hanzo’s dark eyes suddenly flick over to him, watching him out of their corners. Sizing him up.

Ten years and six kids later, the little slut has lost most of his fear of Jesse. If not all.

“You are a pig.” Or all.

Jesse grunts and rolls onto his back, hand going down into his ratty sweatpants, unabashedly grabbing his cock.

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”

Hanzo slowly puts his hairbrush down and turns more to Jesse, watching disdainfully as his arm moves in distinct jerking motions, trying to get his dick hard. Too much alcohol and drugs for so many years has made that part a bit difficult these days.

Hanzo scoffs and slowly stands up, his robe sliding open. He’s still as hairless as he’s been ten years ago. Jesse stares at him, mouth watering. His hand stops, palm just curled around his cock, feeling it grow warm and fattening up in his grip slowly.

Hanzo’s sharply intelligent eyes keep trailing over him slowly. It’s a far-cry from the kid Jesse had fucked and bred up against his will. The Elders had scared him into staying with Hanzo and taking care of the kid. He would have never thought that he’d actually stay for any amount of time.

Jesse grins at him slowly and lifts his hips with a grunt, wrestling his ratty sweats down enough to get his ruddy, fat cock out and show it off to Hanzo. He scratches idly through the thick forest of his pubes, other hand holding his dick upright for Hanzo’s perusal.

Hanzo hums softly, staring at Jesse’s offering first, then up at his face second. He slowly lets the robe slide off of his shoulders. McCree’s breath hitches. Hanzo’s hair is flowing around his shoulders black and glossy. He’s started up a goatee and moustache a couple years ago. Jesse suspects that he only did it to show him off how much better he looks with it; taking care of his body with the utmost care that Jesse still doesn’t show himself.

“I wonder…” Hanzo says slowly as he kneels onto the edge of the bed. “What is going on in that head of yours?”

Jesse licks his lips slowly. He lets go of his dick in favor of reaching out for his boy. He feels like an old bastard when looking at how plain gorgeous Hanzo is when compared to his own slowly aging body; hirsute and greying in places.

“I want another one,” he drawls. Hanzo’s brows lift. He slowly crawls over until he can straddle Jesse’s hips. He sits down, letting the hot cock push against along his crack.

“A child?” Hanzo says softly, his cool, intelligent eyes watching Jesse with interest. “You already have six of them.”

He reaches down, fingers sliding along his belly, then finding the stretch marks on his lower abdomen and trailing along them idly. Jesse’s breath hitches.

“‘N I want more,” he rasps, big hands curling around Hanzo’s hips. “Ye’re mine. I can do whatever I want with ya, boy. Did you forget?” He rubs his thumbs into Hanzo’s hip bones. “I can put babies into you whenever I damn well please. Pump you full with ‘em again and again and again.”

Hanzo’s face becomes soft as if Jesse had whispered some sweet nonsense. He leans forward, hands planting next to McCree’s head. He lifts his hips, then reaches down to grab the fat cock and help it stand up; pointing it so he can drag his hole over it tantalizingly.

Jesse’s gut is on fire. A few years ago he would never have let one of his bitches have the upper hand like this. Hanzo smiles like he knows exactly what is going through his head.

“You want another baby?” he whispers softly. “It will be one more asking you to go swimming with them. And run with them. And show them how to shoot targets.”

Jesse flushes, fingers going tight around Hanzo’s hips. It would be easy to pull him down on his cock; twist them and bury him beneath his heavy bulk, force his way into his greedy hole and make him accept the dicking until he goes pliant and just opens his thighs for it.

It wouldn’t be the first time McCree had done it to him, after all.

He doesn’t do any of it, though. Hanzo watches him steadily as he slowly lets his body weight sit him down on the fat ruddy cock until the crown finally pops into the silky clench of his hole.

“You want another baby?” Hanzo whispers, leaning in until his lips are dragging against Jesse’s mouth. “I very distinctly remember you cursing them out just now… telling me how much you hated putting them to bed because they want another story and another story and another story…”

Jesse is breathing shakily out against Hanzo’s mouth.

“That was earlier…”

“Hmm… twenty minutes ago.”

“It was before I watched ya behavin’ like a fuckin’ slut,” he grunts. He digs his fingers roughly into Hanzo’s ass and thigh, knowing from his little grunt of pain that it’ll bloom into bruises come morning.

Hanzo’s eyes are boring into him. They’re hypnotizing. He does not blink as he starts to slowly move along Jesse’s cock, hole always so nice and ready to take him. Now that Jesse has practically molded it after the shape of his dick. Grooming this little bitch into the perfect cockslut for him.

He sometimes wonders if Hanzo would stay with him if he had any idea what other dicks felt like. The thought makes him… anxious.

Hanzo grabs at Jesse’s hair, pulling at it until tears are shooting to his eyes. He moves faster, ass producing soft slapping sounds as it hits the tops of Jesse’s thighs again and again.

“You’ve always been a disgusting pig… and you always will be,” he pants against Jesse’s mouth, his insides clenching down on him, silky and slick and delicious.

“Shut your damn mouth and take my cock,” Jesse whispers back, voice a low rumble.

Hanzo laughs at him breathlessly. His voice hitching whenever Jesse’s beer can dick nudges against his cervix and sends a spark of gut deep pain through him, adding to the mix of need and lust and low-key agony.

Jesse’s probably got twenty kids in ten different states, but he doesn’t care for any of them like he cares for that little family he somehow stumbled into.

Hanzo grasps Jesse’s hand, grabbing hard enough to hurt, wedding rings clinking together. Trying his hardest to get knocked up by Jesse yet again.

What a slut...


	5. Sigma/DVa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigma/D.Va – femdom; orgasm denial; sadistic!D.Va; cbt – Hana likes big men.

Sigma is so big, he makes everything around him look like it is part of a little dollhouse set. Reinhardt has the same kind of dimensions, but he doesn’t have that air of delicacy around him that Siebren does.

Siebren is… he is just _different_. The men both know that they are big and hulking, yet while Reinhardt completely loves it and will boast of his physical prowess, Siebren tends to try to fold in on himself just to make himself seem smaller.

Hana _adores_ it. She thinks it is so _cute_. He’s too gentle to deny her anything, sitting down on one of her little chairs like a good boy and watching nervously as she gets out the ropes.

He’s brilliant; an absolute genius… but too shy to stand up to a very willful young girl.

He could be her grandpa. Her great grandpa. But that only makes it more delicious. He pulls his shirt up under his pits and admires his wide pecs; grabbing and squeezing and rubbing them until she can feel the heat of his flush against her palms.

His pale eyes look all the more striking when his face is a deep embarrassed red.

“You look so cute on there,” she coos, stepping back to really admire the sight of him on her chair, practically dwarfing it.

“Miss Song…” Sigma tries, voice weak and brittle. His breath hitches when she drops to her knees in front of him and urges his long legs apart. He really is gorgeous. She knows he could have pussy twice a day if he only put his mind to it, but he’s too nervous to really pursue anything.

She ignores his interjection in favor of getting to work on his pants.

“It’ll be fun! Don’t worry about it!” she chirps and leans in to drag her soft little cheek against his coarse pubes. He’s got a cute little thatch that he probably takes very good care of. He does not seem like the vain type. Maybe it just has become part of a routine that is difficult to get rid of in his age.

She hooks her fingers into the elastic band of his underwear and slowly tugs it down. She teases herself with it just as much as she teases him. There is something unexpectedly sensual about just looking at the base of a cock; having a painfully slow reveal. Hana’s had enough dick in her life to already appreciate it.

She likes fucking. Likes it a lot. It relaxes her and helps her get her head on straight for meetings and maneuvers out on the field. Sex is something that she actively seeks out to get jitters out and have fun.

Siebren seems like someone who only fucks with his one true love. It’s cute and sad at the same time. She looks up at him when she leans in to suckle a kiss right on the base of his dick.

It feels hot and silky against her mouth. He smells really really good down there. Still, he makes a noise like he is about to choke on his own tongue, eyes closing tight so he wouldn’t have to see how her candy pink tongue is snaking out and lapping lovingly along a rapidly swelling vein along the side of his shaft.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” Hana croons at him, slowly dragging his underwear further down. “You’ll love it. I promise.”

Her heart surges something fierce when she can pull and pull and pull and more of his cock is revealed to her. God, she loves the big boys. The big boys with their big cocks and fat breeder balls.

Reinhardt has them, too; just a meaty fat dick that heavily swings between his thighs when he walks around. Something with enough heft that Hana can feel gravity doing its work when he fucks her from behind.

Siebren is a little slimmer but still long enough to let her know he’d easily knock right against her cervix until she’d feel like clawing off her own skin.

It curves up all cute; not too heavy to stand on its own merits. And not too shy to show her how interested it is in the proceedings despite its master still trying to beg for mercy. As if having a sexy young woman kneel before him and gagging for his cock wasn’t a dream come true.

“You have such a lovely cock,” she tells him gently. “It really is pretty. I’m sure anyone you showed it to was very appreciative, yes?”

She leans in, mouthing at the very tip of the swollen crown. The salty tang of pre-cum bursts over her taste buds and has her salivate within seconds. She wants to gobble him up whole, but… that wouldn’t be much fun, now, would it?

Hana looks up. He looks so delicious above her. Huge and with broad shoulders. She’s sure he could have been a model in his younger days – if only he weren’t so damnably shy.

“Look at me,” she orders. Her voice is sharp, any cooing and purring gone from it. He wrenches his eyes open and stares at her mutely, hectic spots of color appearing on his cheeks.

“Oh… so obedient.”

As he watches, Hana leans in and extends her tongue. She makes a show out of dragging it over his glans and circling his frenulum until there is a visible shudder going up his legs, his nipples going tight and cute.

“Miss Song,” he tries again, voice cracking halfway through. For the first time he tries to struggle against the ropes that bind him to her chair. She has to sit back and just enjoy the sight of it. She likes being in power; having a big strong man at her mercy.

She coos at him as if he were a babe, rubbing soothing hands up and down his thighs, then palming his low hanging sac. As she gently lets the fat balls move inside the loose old man skin of his testicles, she leans in and sucks more kisses onto his cock.

“Just relax. Enjoy it. It’s okay, really. Do you think the others don’t fuck like bunnies?” She opens her lips slowly over his crown, pushing her mouth down excruciatingly slow, until she has just his tip inside her. She can feel his balls swelling minutely in her grip. His breath hitches, body becoming completely still.

He might not want to, but he is waiting for her to skullfuck herself on his dick. To push down and let him into her throat until she feels like he’s directly fucking into her stomach.

Sigma really is cute. Probably even more so when he cries.

Hana stares up at him as she moves her head, just lightly letting the tip fuck against her tongue and into the wet heat of her mouth. There’s a spurt of pre-cum that she swallows down, and then another one that she doesn’t.

She opens her lips to let the whole mess drip over his cock until his shaft is nice and shiny wet. It is trembling eagerly, the veins along the sides visibly pulsating. It’s a piece of art.

His eyes bore into her, waiting for her to finally spear her mouth on his dick…

Hana lowers herself, mouth open and greedy, one hand gentle around his shaft, pulling down to expose his glans completely, and the other – squeezing down mercilessly on the fat breeder balls.

Sigma makes an aborted little cry of pain, then falls completely silent. His cock flexes in Hana’s grip, confused and unsure what to do. It kicks against her palm again, then again, pulsing as if it were coming but not giving any cream to go along with it.

Siebren’s pale eyes are wide and shocked, the pain from his testicles having him gone ghostly white.

And then finally the first fever hot rope of cum hits Hana’s tongue.

Everything is silent. She does not think Siebren enjoys his orgasm much.

Oh well...


	6. Hawks/Endeavor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawks/Endeavor – dirty talk; humiliation – After a fight Hawks is so hot and ready he pulls Endeavor into an alley to have his way with him.
> 
> Prequel: B37F1  
> Sequel: B38F7

Enji can barely stand on his own two feet after ramming the villain into the ground. The shock of it is still running through his body in increments, causing his knees to shake. The adrenaline that had been fueling him the past twenty minutes is quickly dissipating and leaving his head simultaneously empty and rushing with white noise.

Hands shoot into his vision, waving until he manages to slowly tilt his head down and stare at Hawks. Ah yes. He’s fought against the villain with Hawks.

Hawks is moving his mouth but the impact of him and the villain ramming into the ground still has his ears ringing and useless. #2 grabs his thick wrist and starts to pull. When Enji does not immediately start moving, a few feathers press against his back and urge him on.

Slowly, he sets one foot in front of the other. Hawks leads him out of the crater he created in the middle of the street, his feathers a steady push against Enji’s back to keep him both from toppling backwards onto the motionless villain, as well as help him over the rubble. Enji would probably be thankful if his head weren’t so blessedly empty as Hawks ushers him through the parting crowd.

Maybe they’re cheering, maybe they’re quiet, just watching as the number 2 leads Enji like a big toddler through their midst and into a side street. Instead of stopping, he keeps moving, though, turning left, then right, feathers ushering Enji along until his body just protests and Hawks has mercy with him.

Hawks turns, then starts to grin.

.o.

When Enji stops walking for good, Hawks lets him be. They’re far enough from prying eyes anyway and his erection has been chafing for longer than he can handle.

He could have maybe helped more during the fight, but the villain had been chipping away at Enji’s suit, splitting it open so his muscles were bulging out here and there. Utterly too distracting.

He sends out more feathers which start to tug against the splits to pull them farther apart. Enji, the himbo, just stands there and stares at him. He has a small head wound that causes blood to drip down the side of his face, but nothing that’s too concerning. Hawks likes when Enji is beat up as long as it is not too gory.

“Whu…” The big guy seems confused about the feathers urging him to bend over against the dirty wall of the filthy alley, but his tongue is not cooperating yet. The impact earlier had been hard enough to make the earth shake, so Hawks is not too surprised about that.

“Shh… it’s all good, alright?” he croons. He hooks two fingers into a hole in the suit close to Enji’s belt and rips it open with gusto, exposing the thick ass with its smattering of fire red hairs over the cheeks.

Enji grunts again and turns his head but can’t look behind him properly the way that Hawks’ feathers are easily keeping him right where and how he wants him to be.

“Easy, big guy. I’ll be quick, alright? I’ve just had a hard-on for the better part of an hour watching you parade your lewd body around in public like that. You need to take care of that, right? It’s really not gonna take long. Promise. And I’ll even walk you back out, huh?”

The thought of parading a cum-dumb Endeavor out to the masses is doing… _things_ to Hawks. Enji’s naked ass could just be a side effect of his fight with the villain. The message boards would be alight with posts for weeks. Maybe even _months_. Nobody would see the cum slowly dripping out from between his muscle cheeks. Or maybe they would think it’s just sweat. Who fucking knows?

He’s got lube. Of course he has. He’s _always_ prepared around Endeavor-san these days. Now that he knows the little slut can take a dicking and will not incinerate Hawks on the spot, he’s parading around a fat boner practically 24/7.

It’s all Enji’s fault. So he has to take care of it.

Number 1 fights vaguely as he feels his cheeks getting spread and Hawks’ lube wet fingers tickling his hole, but the fight has left him weak and uncoordinated. A perfect target for Hawks’ affections.

“You looked so slutty out there, big guy. Bet the internet is being swamped with new pics of your tits as we speak. You know, I bet that Villain was hot for you, too. Made damn sure to rip your suit open real nice.”

He wishes he had a mirror to fuck Endeavor in front of. He’s only once managed to corner him in a room with one, and the sight of those fat tits bouncing as Enji got railed from behind has burned itself into Hawks’ retinas.

Enji might be too dumb to talk just now, but he’s not too out of it not to understand what Hawks is saying as he spears fingers into his body and forces his slutty hole to spread open wide. The back of his neck is flushing a dark red, his fingers trembling against the rough stone of the wall as he tries to gather some of his strength to maybe push Hawks away.

If he weren’t close to keeling over, Hawks would have grabbed one of those muscle thick legs and forced Enji to lift it up high and offer access to his hole. As is, Hawks lets him stand on both feet so the big lug wouldn’t topple over and right into the stinking trash next to them.

“Once they were out in the open there was no stopping them, you know,” he croons as he goes up onto his tip toes and starts to push himself into the wet hole. Enji whines like a dog but is too weak to properly fight Hawks off, so he has to just stand there and endure the feelings coursing through his body.

The pain from the fight still radiating along his limbs mixing with the discomfort and embarrassment of having his cunt stretched wide on dick and his insides rearranged by the cock that’s visiting him so very regularly these days.

Hawks would train Enji into a perfect cock slut. One that wouldn’t bitch and whine and just give in to becoming the empty headed whore that he is meant to be.

Hawks grabs Endeavor’s hips and holds on tight for the ride, small grunts leaving him with every sharp thrust, sweat sliding along his temples.

He is fixating on Enji’s ears that have grown just as red as his hair.

“You know, everyone is just watching your body,” Hawks rasps between deep thrusts into the swelteringly hot intestines. If Enji just rubbed two brain cells together he would know that he could heat himself up until Hawks’ cock burned. “They’re just watching your tits jiggle and your thighs bounce. They just want your suit to rip open so they can jerk off to your slutty body, Endeavor-san.”

He leans forward, too short to reach his ear. Still, he has his arms around him like an ape, fucking sharp and fast and making the big guy tremble as he listens to him gasp: “They all know you’re a _bitch_ , Endeavor-san.”

He humps fast and nasty, orgasm already building at the base of his spine. He doesn’t know if Endeavor even got it up in time or if he is just using him as a cum-dump right now.

He’d have to make it up to him at a later time… though he certainly does enjoy having him like this – too dumb and out of it to really fight back.

He’ll teach him to be like this more often.


	7. Hawks/Endeavor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawks/Endeavor – public; coercion – Hawks accosts Endeavor in his own home.
> 
> Prequel: B38F6

“No, Fuyumi. Stay. Watch your show. I will bring it to the kitchen.” Enji’s huge hand clasps his daughter’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze and then pushing her back down onto the pillow she is kneeling on.

Fuyumi giggles to mask her surprise and uncertainty; it is something she has always done, even as a young girl, but it only really occurs to Enji now.

“Well, uhm… thank you, daddy,” she says ever polite as he gathers the cups and chopsticks and bowls they used for dinner. Natsuo is completely ignoring him, eyes on the television and the game show running on it. Shoto is pretending to watch but really is just observing Enji from the corner of his eyes.

Enji doesn’t say anything. He’s found that trying to talk to Shoto is difficult on the best of days, and silence sometimes is just more… desirable.

He rounds a corner out of the living room – and is immediately accosted by feathers pinning him against the wall and taking the tray out of his hands. He is startled enough to have his flames sputter on, then off again, heart racing.

He stares at Hawks standing in front of him with a broad, shit-eating grin. A few feathers are cupped over his mouth to keep him from making any noise. The TV in the room at his back is loud enough for now but Enji can feel sweat instantly springing up along his hairline and prickling beneath his arms.

The feathers vanish eventually from his mouth and he whispers: “What the Hell are you doing here?! How did you even-”

Hawks smiles. His feathers start to tug Enji around, ushering him to one of the decorative tables in the hallway. It has been cleaned of any flowers and pictures that had been atop its surface – very likely also Hawks’ doing.

“Don’t worry about that. I just wanted to see you.”

When Enji just stares at him, heart racing and body just following along like a dumb animal with what the feathers make it do, he amends: “I just want a quick fuck.”

Enji can feel his heart skip a beat, and his face contorting.

.o.

Hawks cuts him off before he can really get his panties in a twist. He places a hand right in the middle of Endeavor’s broad chest and pushes him to lie back on the table while the big guy’s pale blue eyes are flicking to the entrance of the living room.

They’re just a couple steps away from the door. It’s _really_ exciting.

Hawks can feel his grin go broader and more predatory.

“You better stay nice and quiet,” he whispers. “You better do what I say so I can focus on making sure they don’t come our way, yes? The more ressources I have to put into keeping you quiet, the less I can use to spy on your darling little children.”

When Endeavor just stares at him and doesn’t scream, he takes it as permission to go along. His feathers already have been working on opening Endeavor’s belt and starting to shimmy his pants down.

“You need to not make a single sound,” Hawks whispers at him. “You don’t want them to notice, do you? To come looking for daddy and see him with his legs in the air-” his feathers push against the backs of Endeavor’s knees until he is lying on his back like a whore, his feet bouncing at Hawks’ shoulders, “-taking cock like a champ.”

He can hear Enji inhaling sharply, one of his massive legs kicking out – but before he can start to complain and struggle too much, they hear the kids in the other room suddenly pipe up.

Hawks freezes, excitement trickling down his spine, cock jerking in his loose pants. They’re all trying to guess the answer to a question but it sounds like they’re standing right beside them.

He stares at Endeavor, heart pounding in his chest, waiting for him to come to a decision. Enji’s face twists. He flushes as red hot as his hair as he opens his massive thighs, eyes flicking between Hawks and the open door to the living room behind the #2 hero.

Hawks’ grin is broad enough to almost hurt as he steps closer, opening his pants with slightly shaking fingers. He has a few little downy feathers at the entrance of the living room door waiting for the slightest change in air pressure to alert him to one of the kids getting up to go out.

He can drag the swollen tip of his cock through Enji’s crack, goosebumps prickling along his arm when he feels the wetness there.

“Oh? Did you do what I told you to do?” he croons, hand holding his cock still so it can nose up against the wet hole Endeavor presents to him. The wet, _prepared_ hole. “Shit, Endeavor-san… did you finger yourself earlier? Did you put a leg on the toilet lid and tickle your little pussy with your fat fingers?”

Hawks’ voice is rasping in his eagerness. He leans over Endeavor, staring at his humiliated, flushed face as he pushes and pushes until the crown pops past the supple muscle.

Enji’s eyes thin, the wrinkles framing his mouth going deeper. He might look for an outsider as if he were in pain, but Hawks has fucked him often enough by now to know exactly what Endeavor looks like when he tries his hardest not to show how much he loves cock.

“It’s okay,” Hawks whispers. In the other room, the kids get louder again, arguing over something on the screen. In response, Enji’s insides ripple and clench down, the panic of being caught with his feet in the air and a cock in his ass visible on his face.

Hawks rarely has had better pussy than Endeavor-san trying and failing not to be a slut for dick. Hawks feels a rare bout of pity, letting more feathers skitter over to basically muzzle the #1 hero.

He stares right into Enji’s wide, crystal blue eyes as he begins to fuck him, hips humping fast and deep to drill Endeavor’s sweetly prepared hole. His belt buckle is tinkling softly in time with Enji getting railed. It would be easy to send a few more feathers out and keep it from making any noise… but where would be the fun in that?

It is only exciting if they _can_ get caught. If they skirt just outside the danger zone. If he fucks Enji so good and deep that he can feel the vibrations of his muffled grunts against the feathers over Endeavor’s mouth.

He can’t believe Enji actually prepared himself for it. He’s told him while fucking him like a bitch the other day: stay nice and prepared for me. never know when I might want to have your pussy on my dick, Endeavor-san.

It had just been babbled in the heat of the moment, but… oh yes. Oh _yes_. Endeavor is a _slut_.

Hawks drills him deep, hard enough to force grunts out of Enji despite the feather muzzle. The table beneath them is shaking violently, knocking against the wall every now and then.

Good thing he sent one of his little feathers to tweak the volume of the TV.


	8. Baptiste/Sigma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigma/Baptiste – conductor!Sigma skin; music AU; oral fixation – Baptiste is obsessed with the new conductor.

Baptiste can’t help but just stare at the new conductor. His saving grace is that there is nothing weird about it, at least. He has learned the piece by heart weeks ago, fingers flying over the oboe, head slightly tilted down as he plays it but eyes always up – staring at De Kuiper.

He and many of the others had been sceptical when they’ve seen the old man. Their orchestra is a young one, and they have had bad experiences with the older conductors unwilling to budge from their routine – or so stiff in their movements that they’ve sucked all the energy out of the room.

De Kuiper is… different. He’s pulled Baptiste’s eyes the moment he started leading them and he’s had difficulties pulling them off of him since. Baptiste’s attention is _captured_. The last time he felt like this has been when he started playing the oboe.

The energy in the room is thick enough to make him feel like he could touch it if he only could take his fingers off of his instrument.

He’s waited for this weird… fascination to dissipate, but weeks and months start to bleed into each other, and Baptiste still sits to the side of the orchestra and stares at Siebren’s profile, mapping the jut of his hawkish nose and following the arcs of his lively hands swishing through the air.

Baptiste feels drawn tight. Tighter even when he realizes that the man is not only a genius, but _kind_. He goes around after every practice, clasping the hands of each and every member of the ensemble, encouraging them with a few words. Baptiste had been speechless the first time, hands twitching nervously in the big, warm palms, acutely aware of how rough his knuckles must be as he’s forgotten to use cream for a couple days now…

Something has to give. His obsession is crippling him. When he does not practice, mind going meditative and blank as he listens to the nasally dark tones of his instrument, he is lying on his bed, desperately fucking his slick fist, trying to shake this fixation.

Something has to give. Something _has_ to give.

Something gives.

After their first concert under the new direction, Baptiste feels like he is in a fever dream. De Kuiper’s conducting has left him short of breath, heart racing, sweat pearling on his brow. The sight of the old man with his hair pulled back more cleanly than he usually does… in a gorgeous uniform showing off the sharp lines of his V figure…

It has given him the rest.

As everyone files away into the back, chattering as soon as they are behind the thick curtain, excited and elated that everything has gone completely according to plan, Baptiste swerves and takes a different route.

He is possessed by a devil, the music still thrumming through his limbs, put there by De Kuiper leading them all. Pushing them on; leading them into a frenzy as the piece crescendoed into a finally that had felt akin to orgasmic.

Baptiste is sporting an erection that has him limp, the black dress pants somewhat masking the obvious bulge down one leg.

He is panting by the time he is at De Kuiper’s room. His hand is shaking as he raps his knuckles urgently against the wood of the door. The finale of the music is still echoing in his head; before him are still the phantom pictures of De Kuiper, moving with the music, pushing them on, absorbing the energy and giving it back to them ten fold.

The door opens.

Siebren stands there, red dots of agitation high on his cheek bones. His pale eyes look a bit glassy – as frenzied as Baptiste feels.

His mouth opens, probably to question whatever it is that Baptiste wants of him now – yet before he can utter a single syllable, Baptiste is on him, kissing, hands cramped around the broad shoulders.

De Kuiper has lost his jacket and leaving him with the white shirt that was underneath, ruffles along the row of buttons. Baptiste thumbs the bow-tie around his neck. It occurs to him that De Kuiper actually bound it and didn’t simply use one with a hook. For some reason that makes him even hotter for the old man.

He pushes him inside gently, foot kicking the door closed. Siebren has been shocked stiff, his pale blue eyes wide in shock – but he is not pushing Baptiste away. Not for a good few seconds at least.

His mouth is open just enough for Baptiste to lightly try and lick inside, body hot and vibrating on the spot. He’s not entirely sure what he even wants to *do…

Siebren’s big, warm hands clasp his shoulders and push him back. Just a little. They’re both breathing deeply, chests heaving. Siebren licks his lips and Baptiste focuses on the little slip of tongue he can see.

“Mister… Mister Augustine-” Siebren gasps. The points of color have now spread into his gaunt cheeks. The color makes his eyes pop. Baptiste sways closer, lips tingling from the too short kiss.

“Baptiste… please,” he rasps, tongue slowly dragging over his bottom lip just to have a sensation and not go insane.

Siebren’s gaze drops to his mouth, staring at the slick motion of his tongue-

and Baptiste knows what to do.

Baptiste goes to his knees, Siebren’s sigh of “Baptiste…” shuddering through his body and ending in a tingle at the base of his spine.

“Please… please, just to take the edge off,” he begs, fingers nervously pushing at the cummerbund around De Kuiper’s trim waist. His fingers are shaking. It’s been a long time since he was this nervous. This… _primed_ to get at someone’s cock. To feel it weighing down his tongue and drag against his lips until they tingle and feel swollen and everything goes nice and fuzzy at the edges.

Maybe Siebren has been hot for him too. Or their performance has excited him just as much as Baptiste has gotten excited by the frenzy that their conductor has pushed them into.

In any case… he does not keep Baptiste from getting at his cock.

Long, trembling fingers rub through Baptiste’s thick hair as he stares at the long cock in his hand. It is flushing beneath his gaze and thickening considerably. 

He suckles the tip between his lips, eyes – as always – on Siebren’s face. It is flushed the same shade of pink as his cock. Their gazes meet, and it is like a shock for Baptiste’s system.

He slips deeper onto the cock, letting the swollen tip rub along his tongue.

He’s never fucked any of their other conductors. He’s never been as frenzied and infatuated with one… yet here he is, on his knees, slowly suckling more and more of Siebren’s cock into his mouth while admiring the sight of him biting his lips and trying his hardest not to make a compromising noise for the people walking past just outside the door.

Baptiste tilts his head back, hands gently grasping the tops of Siebren’s thighs to keep himself in position as he relaxes and lets the swollen tip pop into his throat. He swallows around it once, twice, then pulls back again, lips tingling like he had been hoping for; head starting to go deliciously empty.

Siebren is still staring at him. What he sees in his eyes lets him relax, heart skipping a beat before pumping even faster.

Siebren’s gaze tells him that this won’t be the last time he will get to have him and his music.


	9. Elliott/Farmer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elliott/Farmer – Stardew Valley – male!Farmer; big dick!Elliott; deepthroat – Elliott has a huge dick but no nice experiences with it. Farmer will change that.

The boys in the Valley are all very cute and surprisingly formal. Farmer had thought he had made it quite clear that he wants to be dicked down (even becoming increasingly lewd with the bachelors as his desperation mounted) but all of them had taken him out on a sweet date before spreading their legs for him. Or getting between his.

He is not picky. He really, _really_ isn’t.

Elliott is no exception to the rule, but that also doesn’t surprise Farmer. Before he had started his quest to get all those men laid, he had lain in bed and wondered about how it all would go down. How every dude’s cock would look like. How big their balls might be. What shade of red the tip of their cock would become when they flush with excitement.

His first thought when it had been Elliott’s turn had been: cute. It would be cute. Elliott would probably flush and become very shy. He’d insist on pulling the curtains in his little beach shack shut so it would be as dark as possible as he laid back and closed his eyes and thought of the Valley.

Reality is not too far off when Farmer finally has a few of the other guys under his belt and feels like he can tackle Elliott. He’d be difficult; though not as difficult as Clint would be, he knew.

Elliott takes him out on a boat which is really neat. Farmer has never been out on the sea like that. He spends a lot of time at the docks, staring out at the horizon while fishing, but actually paddling out on it is something new.

Elliott is sweet and cute, just like he thought he would be, but then he actually takes the initiative and kisses him… and that is something new and exciting that immediately has his interest in Elliott flaring again.

Farmer is used to a whole different kind of nasty in the city but these boys have taught him a good portion of humility. Though it still is a bit embarrassing to get hard just from a fumbling little kiss.

No skin off his nose.

Elliott is flushed and nervous when he pulls back, not quite managing to look at Farmer during the whole way back.

Farmer thanks him the nice afternoon out by dropping to his knees in Elliott’s shack and working on getting his cock out. It’s as romantic as it will get, he thinks. The afternoon sun is shining through the cracks in the slats and make for a nice, intimate setting right until Elliott stumbles back, eyes big and hectic spots of color appearing on his cheeks.

He rams into his writing desk with his ass, noisily jostling a few things on top of it. Farmer watches him go with his brows pulled up high.

As Elliott stammers impotently, he slowly makes his way over in a crawl.

“Hey. Hey, it’s alright. It can be fun, okay?” he says gently as he grasps Elliott’s hips and leans in to press his mouth against the ride of his cock visible in the open V of his pants. Elliott is wearing tighty whities which does not surprise Farmer at all. He does smell very nice and clean. His cock is also very warm and obviously interested.

While Elliott keeps stammering and doesn’t push Farmer away, he begins to peel Elliott’s underwear down to reveal his cock. And reveal it. And reveal it.

Farmer’s belly drops low into his abdomen as the realization dawns that he has completely misunderstood the whole situation.

His fingers feel a little numb as he jerks the elastic band down and Elliott’s dick finally swings free, blood heavy and longer than any cock Farmer has ever played with. His belly cramps and his cock jerks so vigorously in his underwear that it hurts a bit. He stares at the massive dick, then up along Elliott’s body.

There are strands of Elliott’s long hair that have wriggled their way out of the pretty bow and are sticking to his sweaty face. His eyes are big and a bit afraid. Farmer is reminded of one of his sheep; the little thing has been a nervous wreck for most of the time until it finally came around to trusting him.

He exhales softly. He should pull the sex deviant act back a little if he does not want Elliott to break out in tears. Instead he curls his hand slowly around that monster of a dick and leans his cheek against it.

“You got a gorgeous cock. Has anybody told you that?” he croons.

Elliott is swallowing hard, Adam’s Apple visibly bobbing. He slowly shakes his head, fingers curled in a death grip around the edge of his writing desk. Farmer wants to give him some nice memories to think of whenever he sits there and writes his new novel.

Wants him to get painfully hard and have to jerk his glorious big dick before he can get any writing done.

“I bet there were quite a few that wanted to play with it, huh?”

Elliott just stares at him, his lips trembling.

“... And I bet they all didn’t manage to take that big fat monster you got.”

He turns his head a bit to start kissing at the silky, blood hot shaft, eyes still trained on Elliott’s rapidly crumpling face. Farmer doesn’t need to see his hectic nodding or hear the sob muffled behind a hand to know he is right.

He’s been around the block enough times to know how things go. Getting down hot and heavy with a partner only for them to back out halfway through getting crammed with a cock like that. Or them not even going that far.

It would scratch on stronger men’s egos. He is not surprised that Elliott would have been severely traumatized by it.

He pulls back a little, pointing the cock at his mouth and giving the tip a nice little kiss. There’s just a little dab of wetness right at the slit, but he doesn’t mind. He’s got enough spit to get everything nice and going.

“Please… Please, you don’t have to,” Elliott whispers softly.

Farmer, stubborn as ever, keeps staring right at him as he opens up wide and begins to fuck his mouth down on the biggest real life dick he has ever witnessed.

Elliott sobs into his palms, yet the big dick in Farmer’s grasp pulses warm and alive and excited. He drags the tip against his tongue a few times, settling into the sensation, saliva starting to flood his mouth.

He pushes in deeper. And deeper. He gives himself time, listening to Elliott’s sobs and his babbling; his assurances that Farmer does not need to do any of this.

Oh, but he really, really _does_.

Farmer looks up at Elliott again when he finally moves to get his throat as straight as possible. He grasps Elliott’s hips and pushes him firmly back against the table before showing him just what a city boy can do.

Elliott actually releases a short, high-pitched scream when Farmer pushes, and the fat tip pops right into his throat.

Everything around the edges becomes nice and fuzzy, then. It’s impossible to breathe so he stays down as long as possible, going cross-eyed when he pushes more and more, filling his throat with cock in a way it has never been filled before.

It’s years that he last deep-throated someone, but apparently it is like riding a bicycle.

Elliott is probably making some form of sounds but it all becomes white noise as he gurgles around the cock. He pulls back, takes a few heaving gulps, then spears himself once more on dick. Time becomes weird and elastic. It does not seem like any time at all until his nose his nestled in the gorgeously kept little thatch of pubes.

It seems like even shorter a time when Elliott suddenly grips his head and holds him down while his cock spurts, putting the cum without detour right in his belly.

By the time he is let go by the overwhelmed poet, blackness starts to creep in around the edges of his vision.

Farmer pulls back hacking and coughing and with a spreading wet patch in his jeans. A mixture of saliva and cum is dripping from his mouth but when he looks up in Elliott’s face, shaking and high on the whole experience, he is grinning.

Elliott’s face is wet, eyes still wet with tears. He looks so shocked and dismayed; years of being denied to stuff a warm little hole with his dick seemingly having shocked him into orgasm.

But he does grin back. Small and shaky.


	10. McCree/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Hanzo – kink negotiation; no sexytimes; rape tw; happy ending – Finally the whole ordeal ends with Hanzo and Jesse coming to an agreement. It’s fucked up but they’re not exactly normal guys.
> 
> Prequel: B37F11

Hanzo finds Jesse out behind the base, sitting on one of the low walls and looking out over the water. The drop down the cliffs is steep, but neither of them is afraid of heights. They’re not afraid of many things, in their line of work.

He sits down next to Jesse and settles in for a longer stay, reaching for his sake while knocking shoulders with the other man. McCree smells of sweat and the thick, sweet smoke of his cigar. Hanzo reacts to these smells like a well-trained dog. He relaxes and closes his eyes.

Jesse smells like _home_. He’s missed it dearly during the other’s capture.

Jesse lets him settle down and refuses the sake. His face is relaxed but the way he almost chews on the butt of his cigar lets Hanzo know that something is the matter. So he waits.

It takes a good half hour of them sitting in silence before Jesse finally inhales deeply, holds the breath for exactly three seconds, then lets it out with the low words: “I’d like t’ repeat that thing we did the other day.”

He lazily ashes his cigar over the edge of the cliff while Hanzo stays quiet, head running with all possible scenarios. He slowly drags his tongue along his bottom lip. It’s been almost two months since he did the unspeakable as per Jesse’s request. Things had actually gotten better afterwards. Almost back to how they were before.

He slowly nods.

“I can do that.” He claps Jesse on the back and makes to stand up and get everything ready with a nice, hot bath, but Jesse holds him back with a hand around his wrist before he can get up.

“Wait. I don’t think ya understand,” he drawls. He gently squeezes Hanzo’s wrist, thumb doing a slow back-and-forth over the delicate inside. “I meant I want to repeat all of it. The whole thing.”

He enunciates this very clearly, putting an effort into not slurring any words. He doesn’t look at Hanzo at first but then turns his head after all, staring at him with those dark eyes that hit Hanzo deep in his chest.

He lets the announcement sink in as he settles back next to Jesse and grabs for his gourd once more. There’s not much left in it but he does need the alcohol dearly.

“Jesse… I-”

“I honestly think it helps.”

Hanzo glances over at him. Jesse is leaning forward, elbows on his knees, cigar awkwardly dangling between two lax fingers. He does not _look_ like it would help. He looks like just a stiff breeze could knock him over and make him tumble head first into the crushing waves below.

Hanzo puts his hand automatically on Jesse’s back, fingers curling into his warm serape.

Jesse does not seem to notice it. He just continues: “I know it’s fucked up. And it’s probably too much to ask from ya. But… I really enjoyed it. It was scary. And it hurt like a bitch. But I’ve felt… really calm afterwards. Centered.”

He reaches up and drags a palm over his mouth, his beard rasping against his skin.

Hanzo doesn’t know what to say to that so he remains silent, mouth pressed into a severe line – heart racing. He thought they’d have the whole thing behind them now. That he could just lock it away into that same dark corner that he locks everything disturbing into so he wouldn’t have to go and re-examine the sick rush of lust he had felt ramming Jesse’s head into the ground and forcing himself onto his own lover.

Jesse speaks before Hanzo can come to any kind of conclusion. He sits up a bit straighter, finally no longer precariously dangling over the edge. He turns his head a bit and stares at Hanzo through the stringy fall of his unkempt hair.

“It’s not only that,” he confesses in a half-whisper. “It really ain’t.” He stubs his cigar out and tucks it into a little container Hanzo gifted him a year ago, then sighs deeply and says in a rush as if ripping off a bandaid: “I get off on it.”

Hanzo leans back a little as if that would help to better parse the whole situation. He stares at Jesse who suddenly explodes in his face, brown cheeks a ruddy, splotchy red of a kind of embarrassment Hanzo has never seen on him.

“Don’t ya lookit me like that! I know you get off on it too! Don’t make this weird!”

Jesse gets up with a grunt, wiping debris off the seat of his pants. He radiates anger and humiliation which is not something Hanzo is used to from the laid back cowboy.

But maybe things change when one asks for his rape and subsequent babying by their partner.

Hanzo is up in a flash and reaches for Jesse, hindering from stomping away further with a hand on his serape. It would be easy for Jesse to just shrug him off and be on his way, but he obediently stops and just stands there, shoulders hunched forward in a slouch.

Hanzo slowly lets go of him.

“You’re… correct. I do experience feelings of arousal during these instances,” he says stiffly. “Have you spoken to your therapist about this?”

Jesse nods with a grunt, hesitates, then shakes his head slowly.

“I made… implications.”

Hanzo touches Jesse’s elbow.

“I do want to give you what you seek. It seems to be something we both have a desire for. But… we need to talk about this more. Have… contingency plans.”

Jesse swings his head around and glances at him over the swell of his shoulder. He looks painfully hopeful.

“Ya sure ‘bout that?” he asks with a brittle voice. “You ain’t pullin’ my leg, right?”

Hanzo shakes his head.

“I wouldn’t dare. I want to give you what you want. And I want to take what I want. But…”

“...Not under every cost. I gotcha.”

Jesse exhales, shoulders sagging down like a huge weight has been taken off his chest. He careens around on one foot and staggers into Hanzo’s arms who can just about catch him before the heavy oaf topples to the ground.

“That’s good. Real good. Fuck, I’ve been thinking about it for two weeks, wonderin’ how to ask you. Fuck. Thank you.”

Hanzo closes his eyes and leans his head against Jesse’s inhaling his scent of sweat and cigar smoke.

_I love you. I would do anything for you. We’ll come out of this stronger._

He doesn’t say it, but he thinks it.

Jesse curls his arms around him as if he’d heard anyway.


	11. Shane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane – Stardew Valley – egg stuffing; mention of monster (giant insect) fucking; ruined/denied orgasm; getting (almost) caught – Shane only feels peace when he can get off.
> 
> Sequel: B39F9

Shane usually needs to get off in the mornings to have the energy to drag himself to Joja. If he feels _really_ needy for a fuck, he will get up early in the morning and put an effort into going to the mines where the upper floors crawl with the harmless monsters that he can coerce into a fuck, but…

He rarely has the energy for that these days. What he does instead is visit his chickens in the coop and get it off in there. Jas and Marnie never get up that early anyway. He can take his time throwing a few hands full of seeds over the floor of the coop and watch the ladies eagerly run over from every corner of the room to get at the feed.

He’ll pause then, just watching them move about, Charlie’s blue feathers glinting in the few sunbeams that already crawl through the grimy little window. He’ll let them out in a bit, but for now he feels like it is just a tad too chilly outside.

Eventually he starts moving. He has time, but not _that_ much time, after all.

.o.

The chicken move around him in a small radius, watching as he puts a second of their eggs against his slick hole and starts to push. Shane likes to think they’re judging him. The thought has him biting the sleeve of his jacket to remain quiet as the still warm egg starts to stretch his rim.

They’ll certainly know that what he’s doing is not the correct thing to do with their eggs. They’ve pushed them out of themselves just for him to stuff them back inside his own body, his cock swinging between his thighs heavy and flushed.

He’s not yet grabbing for it just because he likes the feeling of pressure in his dick; the throb of his heartbeat in the swollen crown.

He also likes how Charlie comes very close to eye his erection, even going as far as to nudge on it with her beak. It makes him shudder and clench down helplessly – the egg he’s half stuffed inside suddenly popping back out into his trembling palm.

Okay. Okay. He can do it. He just needs to be calm… and patient… 

Shane bites his lips as he fumbles with the egg, then finally puts it back against his hole. He can feel the first one right there in his entrance; just waiting for him to loose it again and accidentally bear down on it. The need is present, but not all encompassing. He’ll get to squeeze them out later anyway.

It’s so peaceful here in the coop, surrounded by the softly clucking chickens as he stuffs himself with their eggs. The second goes in without another hitch and sends sparks of warm, fuzzy pleasure trickling through his body.

He wonders how many he can cram into his guts today. Maybe he’ll finally make the half dozen. He shuffles his knees farther apart, head sinking forward until he can rest his cheek on the arm he has braced on one of the crates the chicken like to nest on.

Stuffing himself with warm, freshly laid eggs is as meditative as he can get. It’s sick and twisted, but it’s a source of… joy. Figures that he can’t even gett off in the right way. He’s pathetic. This is pathetic. He should just… not…

His fingers twitch against the bottom of the third egg and accidentally push it in faster and deeper than anticipated. His wet rim gets stretched around the widest part of the smooth surface, and the fuzzy warm prickles through his body are renewed with a vengeance.

Shane’s head becomes thankfully, blissfully empty. Everything around him is so peaceful. So quiet. He can be himself here; kneeling in the hay and straw, pants around his knees, stuffing his greedy slut hole with egg after egg because he can’t make the time to go into the mines and look for a monster fuck there.

If he can’t get one of the giant insects to lay their eggs inside him, he will have to just do it himself while the ladies are watching on in confusion.

The third egg slips inside, his rim closing over the bottom of it eagerly. They’re not heavy of course, but he can feel their weight in his gut intimately nonetheless.

He plays a little game with himself, cupping his palm over his hole and carefully bearing down on the eggs. ‘Birthing’ them is half the fun, really. Feeling them move inside his guts and wandering down his intestines… his hole starting to spread over one of them…

He presses his palm against it, pushing it back inside before it can really pop out. His cheeks are flushed, pounding in time with his heart beat, eyes glassy and mouth slack. He bears down again. Pushes them back in. Bears down. His body is throbbing, his abdomen feels swollen.

One of them keeps knocking into his bladder, making him want to piss like one of their cows right below him. Another one is rubbing up against his prostate, making his toes curl and his breath hitch. Oh fuck. Oh god.

He fumbles down between his thighs, rudely squeezing the tingling tip of his erection, trying to stave his orgasm off by making it hurt. It’s suddenly so very close – he’s going a bit cross-eyed.

It’s always the same: him setting out really wanting to finally get half a dozen eggs shoved into his ass, but having to tap out at the fourth because it’s just… it’s just too fucking good.

He tries to keep it back but… he’ll come… he’ll come… oh fuck, he’ll-

“Uncle Shaaane? Are you in theeere?”

Shane’s heart skips a beat. His body is awash with cold dread as he hears Jas calling. Why is she awake? Had more time passed than he thought?

“Why don’t you look in the coop, sweetheart.”

He fumbles to jerk his pants back up, tucking his dribbling cock into his underwear. Tears shoot into his eyes when he accidentally knocks the ball of his palm pretty hard into it before closing the zipper.

He’s presentable in just the second Jas suddenly opens the door and bounces into the coop, beaming at him and holding out his lunch box that he had prepared earlier.

“There you are! You’re late, Shane! Auntie said you need to hurry.”

She shoves the lunchbox into his stomach. He fumbles to grab it, then winces when Jas grabs his hand and starts to pull him out of the coop.

_Don’t touch that hand, oh god, oh god, oh god,_ he thinks mortified as he stumbles after her, too overwhelmed to say anything.

“There you go, just in time! Don’t you want to say thank you? Jeez.”

“Th-thank you,” he stutters, blinking dumb up into the sky as he stands on the porch.

Jas beams at him. She wishes him a nice day at work, then closes the door, leavins Shane standing in the cool autumn breeze with three eggs up his ass and a quickly flagging erection in his now sticky, clammy underwear.

Well… shit.


	12. Sigma/Sombra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Siebren/Sombra – domina!Sombra; crying; rimming; jerking off – Some of Sombra’s clients have a lot of baggage. Siebren is one of them, and hasn’t had many sessions, but she already likes the sensitive grandpa.

Olivia slowly lets her long fingernails trail along Siebren’s back, watching goosebumps rise in the wake of her touch and listening to his wet breathing hitch.

“You’re so flexible for an old guy,” she sing-songs. “I hadn’t thought you had it in you. Maybe I should try out just how far you can stretch those long, pretty legs you got.”

He shakes his head, turning his face into the bedding as if trying to hide himself away. Cute. His fingers are curling restlessly, just like his toes are. He’s taken well to having his wrists bound to his ankles. Part of her already wants to throw him on his back and bend his legs up to his head, but… 

_Slow, Olivia. Patience._

His little ass is right there for the taking. It is so naked; not much hair on the cheeks or the lightly spread crack. She tugs on just a few little ones at the very top of his cheeks, causing him to try and duck away from the touch.

“Oh look at you! You’re so sensitive.”

“Miss… Colomar. Please.”

His voice trembles. He seems already close to tears. Olivia pauses and leans over to look into his face, gently carding her nails through his thin hair, making it stand up in tufts. He looks so damn cute. She’s never met a grandpa that makes her feel like a mommy and gets her panties wet in the same move.

“You okay?” she asks gently. He’s asked for the domina treatment and paid a good dollar for her, but she finds that he is too sensitive for her usual song and dance. He looks so fragile. Someone has hurt this boy badly in the past.

He nods with his eyes clenched shut and she hums thoughtfully, nails gently scratching over his shoulders in a slow, rhythmic back-and-forth. She likes to use her nails on her clients; she is good with them – and she knows the johns enjoy the sensory input they give them.

Siebren seems to calm down at the steady motion. He relaxes his back from the feline hunch into a long, delicious line.

“There you go. You get so excited when I praise you. It’s really cute.”

He opens his eyes and glances at her. When he sees her standing there in her corset, tits spilling over the top, nipples hard and sensitive, he quickly squeezes them shut again.

Olivia smirks and slowly moves around him again, hand sliding between his spread thighs to grasp his cock. It is long and a bit slender. She really wants to take it for a ride, but he’s not there yet. She likes to keep the new clients on a short leash to give them an incentive to come back.

Though she thinks she’s had this gentle boy right from the get-go. He seems like it took everything he had just to book one appointment with her.

His breath hitches again when he feels her hand. He lightly twists his hips, thighs trembling. The spreader bar keeps him from closing those deliciously long legs, though.

She gives him a small tug, then giggles as she feels his cock eagerly flex in her palm.

“It’s like milking a cow! That’s so exciting!”

His flush his rushing along his back now. He seems mortified, but a wet line of pre-cum is starting to drip from the swollen tip. Olivia hums and sits down next to his feet. As she keeps slowly jerking him with one hand, she uses the other to lightly scratch her nails over the sole of one of them.

Siebren cries out with an aborted gurgle, his whole body trying to jerk away. He clearly has not anticipated this kind of touch. Olivia giggles and leans over, cheek leaning against his tailbone. The position is too awkward to keep jerking him, so she just holds him in her hand while she focuses on tormenting his naked feet.

She does that sometimes for her clients; they’re into all sorts of things. She doesn’t mind, really. He hadn’t asked for it, but she couldn’t deny how cute she found his feet for some reason. They looked just especially vulnerable, she supposes.

In her hand, his cock keeps throbbing, the thick vein against her finger notably swelling as Siebren continues trying to jerk away from the touches on the soles of his feet.

“Miss Colomar!” he tries again, voice raspy and desperate.

“Hmmm?” she hums, making it seem as if she is only half-interested in what he has to say.

He does not continue, though; as if he doesn’t know what to say. What to do.

What he wants.

“You’re a weird one, you know that?” she asks eventually, voice teasing but not necessarily mean. She doesn’t think this sensitive soul could take her at her worst, really.

When he doesn’t say anything but have his breath hitch again, she continues: “You just want to be trussed up and played with. You haven’t even begged for my pussy yet.”

She idly lets her fingers slip between his toes as she things about it. She sits up again and twists her body so she can start milking his cock once more. Give him slow, deliberate tugs of her fist. His hips jerk up, then hunch down, everything uncoordinated as if he’s never dicked a warm little hole in his life.

“You’re so quiet and polite,” she continues softly. “You don’t really need to pay someone to play with you, you know? I could give you at least ten girls off the top of my head that would absolutely love to have a nice little evening with you and then maybe get to ride that lovely cock you have.”

He sobs very quietly and shakes his head again. His whole body shudders, the steady drip of pre-cum becoming thicker. She stops touching his feet and instead puts the tip of her finger idly to his deeply flushed cock, playing with the wetness there.

“No? Oh well. They’re all cute, though. I’m sure they’d be very gentle with you.”

His hips jerk, awkwardly fucking into her hand, all the while heaving into the bedding. She feels like he is actually, really, truly crying right now and is a bit at a loss as to what to do with him.

Maybe he needs it, though. Maybe _this_ is what he had not been able to ask of her the past few sessions. That he just really wants to have a good cry. She doesn’t judge him: who doesn’t need a nice sob every now and then?

“It’s alright, baby. Olivia got you. I don’t mind at all playing with you. You’re probably my favorite boy.”

The tilt of her voice is a bit babying maybe, but he does not seem to care. He keeps shaking, cock flexing in her grip, his balls drawn up so tightly to his body. He seems close to coming despite his obvious distress.

What he needs, in Olivia’s opinion, is not a Domina but a nice little lover to take care of him.

He’s not the first broken soul to come to her doorstep. She doesn’t know why she seems to draw them in like flies, but it’s nice. She likes to piece their puzzles together.

She leans in, spreading his cheeks with one hand, and gives his little pink hole a lick and a suckling kiss.

It is enough to make him come on a rough yell, jerking so hard that he somehow manages to topple forward.

Ah… that at least is no mystery to her. Sensitive boy.


	13. Rose/Kabu + Oleana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose/Kabu + Oleana – femdom; chub love; old men fucking; toys – Double ended dildo and two submissive old guys. Nuff said.

Oleana’s face is unreadable as she presents the boys with the double sided dildo she got for them. The ends sticking out over her open palm wobble comically. She watches their reaction as they take in the toy, their eyes stuck to the motion of the rubber – they look almost hypnotized by it until Kabu lightly flushes and glances to the side, and Rose reaches out to touch it.

She immediately closes her fingers around it and pulls it away and behind her back, tongue clicking in reprimand. Rose smiles at her, head ducked a little. He is much like a dog in that regard, but that is nothing new.

“Strip,” she orders succinctly and sits down at Rose’s desk. _Her_ desk, to put the toy prominently on the surface in front of her and steeple her fingers as she watches the show.

Her boys could not be more different. Rose with his dark complexion, roguish grin and sturdy, round body – and Kabu deathly pale and slim, expression always so very stern despite her being able to see the bulge in his training shorts long before he pulls them down and shows how far his jockstrap has to stretch to accommodate his erection.

Kabu always hesitates to get completely naked, while Rose doesn’t mind at all. He is unapologetic about his body – quite the contrary, even. He is as narcissistic as they get, hand rubbing over his generously chubby belly, then reaching beneath its swell to grasp his cock.

He is smiling all sweet and eager, fingers slipping further down to play with his sac – nice and round and a bit hairy like his chest.

“Kneel,” she orders her boys after a long moment of just watching them and letting them squirm under her unimpressed gaze. Kabu’s flush is quickly travelling down to his shoulders. He would do well with a portion of Rose’s unrepentant love for himself.

She takes the toy and stands. It wobbles at her side but from the nervous gaze the two men are throwing her, it has to look more like a whip than anything else. She directs them with the pointed tip of her shoe to scoot around until they are butt to butt. Kabu is a bit shorter than Rose but it won’t be too much of a problem. She puts the toy on their backs.

“Don’t let it fall.” She’s a woman of little words. Kabu has never questioned any of her orders, and Rose has learned quickly that it would be best to just go along and be docile – though he is known to step out of line whenever he hankers for some discipline.

Oleana kneels down next to them, back ramrod straight. Preparing their little holes is just a means to an end. She would let the two do it themselves if she could be certain that they would do a well-enough job of it.

However, she is used to doing things herself that she does not trust anybody else to do properly.

She slips two well-lubed fingers into Kabu’s pink little hole and allows herself a little smirk when he exhales on a little whine and his back twitches, almost causing the toy to roll off.

His balls are lower hanging than Rose’s; not as plump but just as visually pleasing as they swing a little with his nervous aborted motions.

Rose is better at keeping calm, surprisingly enough, but only because he is more used to Oleana’s treatments, she supposes. Kabu does not always have the time to come and visit them to play, while Oleana spends most evenings pegging Rose until his hole is obscenely swollen and flushed.

“Good,” she says quietly when she is finally satisfied with their preparedness. Rose is vibrating with excitement, while Kabu is flushed and very quiet, seemingly mortified that he made even the smallest sound of pleasure as she gently rounded his prostate.

She grabs the toy that they have managed not to jostle off their backs and puts the first tip against Rose’s wet, swollen muscle. She doesn’t have to be as careful with him because he is a well-ridden slut. His hole stretches easily, accommodating the firm rubber and closing around the bulbous tip eagerly.

“Wait,” she orders him, hand petting along Kabu’s spine, giving him the other tip more slowly; gently pushing and rotating it around the nervous little muscle until he relaxes into the feeling of being filled.

And finally… she has the boys where she wants them to be.

.o.

Oleana is back at the desk and doing a bit of light work as she listens to the soft whimpers of her pets. Whenever they manage to be quiet, the wet sound of their sluckling little holes is audible as they fuck themselves on the long double ended cock spreading them open.

Rose is overeager, as so often. He pushes back greedily, trying to stuff himself with as much as possible, and forcing Kabu to lean forward as a result. He tries to be quiet, but every now and then, she can hear a distressed little whine as Rose’s eagerness stuffs his friend with more dick than he is used to.

“Rose. Slow down,” she admonishes eventually. She glances over the edge of the desk to watch the two of them, asses nearly pressed together, backs trembling intermittently as the long rubber cock fills their guts and makes them feel close to bursting.

There are wet drips of pre-cum glistening on the floor beneath them. Whatever is going on in their little heads, their bodies are more than on board with the deep stuffing they get just by wriggling and squirming.

Roses movements have the end stuck in Kabu twisting, and vise versa. It only gets them more agitated and trembling, feeding into the constant loop of unwittingly fucking each other.

Kabu’s chest lowers to the ground. He is sobbing into his arms, his whole body flushed an enticing pink. As hard and no-nonsense as he is in the arena, as much of a pushover he is when getting fucked.

He seems to just capitulate, submissively letting Rose have his way and finally bounce his hips until their asses slap together every time in muted _pap, pap, pap_ s.

Kabu makes little gurgling sounds as if the cock had reached so deep it is tickling his throat. Rose on the other hand has extended his arms, bracing himself against the floor until he is damn near sitting upright on top of Kabu.

His tongue is lolling out, face twisted. He looks silly. He _is_ silly. But she can’t deny that his unabashed lust and happiness to be fucked and filled is… inspiring.

He is not the Chairman for nothing, after all. The silly boy.

She braces her cheek on her fist, watching them with mild interest as they start to come, neither of them thinking about begging for it first. They’re just too cute, choking on their own spit, bodies trembling, cocks pumping out thick ropes of cum.

They are lucky she is such a bleeding heart.


	14. Hanzo/Dragons + McCree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo/Dragons + McCree – voyeurism; light electricity play; overstimulation – Hanzo takes the game a step further.
> 
> Prequel: B37F9

McCree’s eagerness as he stumbles into Hanzo’s room is immediately palpable. His excitement is radiating off of him in thick, almost oppressive waves that even if Hanzo were not so very finely tuned into understanding his spirits, would still be immediately noticeable.

He tries to play it cool, swaggering closer, hat pulled deeply into his face.

“Howdy pardner,” he drawls.

The cadence of his voice has Hanzo’s skin prickling, but he tries to keep his expression as neutral as can be. It’s difficult, though… especially when Hidari is trying his best to slip his snout underneath the blanket Hanzo has draped artfully about his hips, sitting on the bed, waiting.

Waiting for McCree to arrive so the fun can begin.

Jesse tips his hat at him, then finally glances up. Hanzo can barely make out his face in the shadow of his brim, but he can see the immediately interested glimmer of his eyes.

“Well now…” he croons. His energy thickens even more, becoming near oppressive as he takes a heavy step towards Hanzo, spurs rattling. The high tinkling sound has more goosebumps chase down Hanzo’s arms, nipples going tight and sensitive without anybody having played with them yet. “That’s a mighty nice sight… all for me, huh?”

He tries to step even closer, but is kept at a distance by Migigawa, suddenly appearing in front of him. He shows his long teeth and growls.

McCree stumbles back so hastily, he nearly falls on his ass.

“Sh-shoot! Gonna give a guy a heart attack! Calm down… not gonna do a thing…” his hands are up, trying to calm the beast as it advances on him slowly, forcing him further back – until his legs hit a strategically placed chair and he plops down into it. Migigawa calms down as if nothing had happened, sitting on the ground and all but ignoring McCree, though keeping himself between the chair and the bed.

Jesse pushes his hat back with the back of his hand, wiping over his forehead with the other.

“Scarin’ a guy to death isn’t a nice thing t’ do,” he complains. There’s a bit of an edge to his voice – like he doesn’t understand the game that they have begun to play the moment he set foot into Hanzo’s rooms.

Hanzo will let him know.

He stands and lets the blanket fall. The complaints immediately die down. McCree’s dark eyes roam Hanzo’s body, taking in the breadth of his chest and the heavy swing of his quickly filling cock.

“Okay…?” Jesse rasps. He’s a stupid, excited mutt within an instant. Hanzo can imagine he would wag his tail if he had one. “Come here, babe. Could’ve said so sooner, huh? But you like your theatrics…”

He has his arms outstretched, leaning back relaxed, long legs spread whorishly apart. He seems to wait for Hanzo to come over and sit on his knee like a sweet little bimbo.

Instead he has to sit and watch as Hanzo turns around and crawls onto the bed, Hidari immediately on and around him, dragging clawed paws along his back and stuffing his snout against the back of his neck to sniff and lick at him.

“Oh…” It’s more an exhale than anything else, but McCree seems to finally understand what this little outing is about.

.o.

Hanzo doesn’t look at McCree, but he is hyper aware of his presence anyway. His heavy breathing. The occasional creak of the chair as he shifts his weight, restless as he is confined to his corner by Migigawa keeping a not-so-close eye on him.

He wants to come over, Hanzo knows. He wants to touch and get his cock out and slap it over Hanzo’s face. Make him lick and suck it and worship his fat hairy balls.

“‘S not fair, is it?” he calls over, deep voice gone scratchy. He sounds almost close to tears as he watches through Hidari’s near translucent body as the long pinkish cock slides into Hanzo, spreading him open around it.

Hanzo doesn’t answer him. He thinks it’s plenty fair; to have him sit there and allow him to watch as he finally, _finally_ gets bred by his spirits again. Let him see how lewd his hole gapes as it is stuffed by dragon cock.

He is very generous, in that regard. He could only be satisfied for so long by McCree’s lewd little messages and pictures and clumsy threats before he’d need to take this a step further.

He’s never fucked them in front of anyone. It is as exciting as it is embarrassing… and a bit frightening, if he is being honest, if just to himself.

True, he could silence McCree quickly if he decided he wanted to actively harm them, but that would bring the whole fun to an abrupt end that Hanzo does not want.

He wants to drag it out some more. Wants to taste McCree’s desperate arousal in the air until it coats his tongue so thickly that he lets it loll out of his head, thick saliva dripping from him, glands working overtime.

When the spirits are out, it becomes difficult to differentiate between them and himself. They become more human. He becomes more animal.

Hidari’s claws are gripping him delicately, sharp tips carefully digging into his skin; just shy of breaking it. His long body is curled awkwardly as he moves his hips, digging his cock deep into Hanzo.

Drilling it into his belly.

Making his him cross-eyed and delirious as he arches his back and lifts his ass back into it. Begging for deeper, harder, more.

McCree’s arousal is making it hard to breathe. It sticks in his lungs like gummy, filling him out from the front like Hidari is from the back. He feels stuffed to a point that makes it difficult to breathe, fingers kneading at the bunched sheets like a kitten milking its mommy dry.

McCree tries once to get up and make his way over to the spectacle, but he is stopped by the other dragon before he can make even a single step. His erection is an awkward swell down his leg, his cheeks feverishly hot and eyes glassy. He looks about as delirious as Hanzo feels. He looks like he would be a sturdy fuck. Like he’d have a fat cock that Hanzo could like…

Or a nice hairy hole ripe for the taking…

Hidari is growling right against Hanzo’s neck; so close he can feel the hot, electric puffs of air, and the slick, firm push of sharp teeth almost biting.

His cock is a wound between his thighs, aching with every painful bounce. It feels as stuffed as the rest of him. His belly is filled with magma and storm clouds. Every now and then Hidari’s cock is giving off little zaps that seem to focus in on his prostate and have tears and snot running as his body seizes and jumps and tries to handle the overstimulation.

He has no idea if McCree is getting his cock out or if he is too afraid to do so in the face of Migigawa’s mute stare, but Hanzo is coming.

He wouldn’t be able to stop it even if he wanted to. McCree is only a vague actor at the side lines as he shakes through his orgasm and his eyes roll into his head.

He might even be blacking out for a second or two. He can’t tell.


	15. Shimadacest (Genji, Hanzo, Sojiro)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shimadacest (Hanzo, Genji, Sojiro) – continuation/prequel to fics posted somewhere I can't mention on AO3 – Hanzo has many duties in the clan and Genji is about to find out one of them. (Part 1)
> 
> Sequel: B38F16

Genji teeters on the fine edge of being good drunk and bad drunk. He tries to be as quiet as possible as he staggers through the family estate and tries not to careen into the bad drunk territory where he will definitely puke all over the freshly waxed wood floor.

He still remembers father’s lecture from last time, and he would like to avoid a repeat performance.

As far as Sojiro was concerned, his youngest had spent the night in his rooms instead of going out and partying and trying to talk his way into somebody’s pants. At least that was the unspoken truce in Genji’s opinion. Sojiro knew about everything going on inside his estate, of course, but as long as Genji did not flaunt that he went out to get destroyed, it was alright… 

Right? Right.

He creeps his way along the wall, using it to keep himself somewhat upright. He is only vaguely aware of being next to one of the rooms father likes to hold meetings in until a loud slapping noise next to him cuts even through Genji’s haze and has the blood in his veins freeze.

His father’s voice reaches his ear, monotone in a way that has goosebumps prickle along his arms – and not the fun kind.

“Receiving Hanzo is a _privilege_ and a _boon_. It is not something an upstart punk asks for in order to do an absolutely _exemplary_ job. Your professionalism and expertise is expected at _all times_. Have you understood?”

Genji’s alcohol addled brain has no problem imagining Sojiro standing behind a desk, hand still on its surface from slamming the palm down on it, face as expressionless as his voice but all the more terrifying for it.

Genji could think Sojiro was an old fart all he wants, but he has to admit that their father has a… _presence_. He is easily the single most intimidating person Genji has ever met, and as much as Hanzo would like to be just like him, he would probably never succeed.

Not for a few long years yet, at least.

Genji, interest now piqued, lists a little closer to the western style door and puts his ear against it.

“But…” Genji inhales sharply. Oh wow, who was that guy? He had heard father dispose of men for less than saying ‘but’ to him. “...I-I just mean… It would be quite an… an incentive- and… he is right there…?”

Genji starts to move. Suddenly the alcohol seems to have just evaporated from his system as he hurries to run into the gardens so he could round the meeting room and try to peer in through one of the windows.

He doesn’t think much about it. He doesn’t have an idea of what he hopes to find, but he’s always been a sucker for sensationalism.

He peeks in through the window. The first he sees is one of the guards, he supposes. He’s never seen the guy, but the suit he is wearing is generic enough to make him look like one of the many men positioned throughout the Shimada estate. Genji really had to put an effort into getting to know these guys again… it always payed off to be on good terms with all the staff.

He shifts a little to the side to get a better look of the whole room. His mouth runs dry when he sees his father’s large desk, Sojiro standing there tall and foreboding in a suit sharp enough it looks like the folds could actually cut. He stands there just as Genji had envisioned he would.

What he had _not_ envisioned was his brother being there as well… leaning over the surface of the desk, Sojiro right behind him. Hanzo was… he was… naked.

Naked except for a dress shirt that still clung to his arms, bunched up awkwardly over his back as if in the wake of some wandering hands that had rubbed his back. As if their _father_ had been rubbing his back just moments before the guard had said something so insolent he had been forced to pay more attention to the poor asshole.

Genji can see his brother’s ass. He hadn’t seen that in… years, he’s pretty sure. While Hanzo is traditional and frequently visits the family’s onsen, Genji is and does… not. He prefers the quick scrub he can get under a normal shower. Gives him more time to sleep the alcohol rush from the last night off so he can go out again…

Out here he can’t hear what they’re saying anymore, but he can see how Sojiro is now putting one big, possessive hand on his older son’s hip. Sojiro’s face is a mask of indifference as he talks to the nameless guard, while… while.

While his hips move.

A slow, leisurely rocking motion that lightly moves Hanzo on top of the desk.

Genji’s breath stutters out so hard that he is afraid for a moment he would be heard. He slaps his hand over his mouth, heart beating a mile a minute. His mind feels as sharp as it hasn’t in weeks as he stares in shock how their father fu… f-fu… as Sojiro _fucks_... 

Hanzo lightly turns his head. Someone, probably their father, has slipped the ribbon out of his hair which is now sliding in fine, black strands over his face. Some of it sticks to his wet lips. Genji first sees how cherry red Hanzo’s cheeks are – and then that Hanzo’s eyes are directly on him.

He reels back, shocked, heart thumping so fast in his chest he feels nauseous. There are no thoughts in his head, he is just watching. Watching as Hanzo not only gets fucked in front of one of the guards, but gets it from their _father_.

Hanzo keeps staring at him. There’s something… provocative about it. Like he is daring him to look away as he gets rocked over the table by Sojiro’s cock in his guts.

He doesn’t seem ashamed or bothered. In fact, it doesn’t look like this is the first time something like this is happening. Not even close to it.

Hanzo slowly is moving his arms up, curling his hands around the edge of the desk as he lifts his head some, openly staring at his little brother staring through the window. If Genji didn’t know better he would say Hanzo looks… yearning.

Genji swallows hard, hands nervously wiping at his pants.

He startles when he realizes that there is no longer a guard in that room. He blinks, eyes flicking away from Hanzo’s flushed, beautiful face, then up to Sojiro who stands behind the window, face severe, not a hair out of place. Genji’s gut reaction is to run away, but his feet are stuck to the ground.

Sojiro opens the window, quietly regarding his youngest. He does not talk about Hanzo still lying stretched out and naked on his desk behind him.

“Genji. Where have you been?” Sojiro asks gravely. Genji tries not to stare at Hanzo but finds his gaze returning to him again and again. He thinks dully of all his little wet dreams he has whenever he is sober enough to dream.

How all of them prominently feature his handsome older brother.

“I… uh…”

Sojiro’s eyes go a little thin, the folds at the corners of his mouth deepening.

“Come in. We need to talk.”

He steps aside to let Genji climb in.

And Genji… does.

(Part 2 coming soon)


	16. Shimadacest (Genji, Hanzo, Sojiro)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shimadacest – Hanzo has many duties in the clan and Genji is about to find out one of them. (Part 2)
> 
> Prequel: B38F15  
> Sequel: B39F6

Genji standing in front of his father, waiting for a lecture, is not a neither a new feeling nor a new concept. Sojiro has spent many an hour berating Genji and trying to more or less openly bribe him into reevaluating his life with little success.

Having Hanzo there with them, quietly looming in the background also is not new… but him standing there naked, leaning against a wall and lighting a cigarette to suck on as his cat eyes stared holes into Genji – _that_ definitely is new.

Genji stares back at him with what is probably a rather brain dead expression. Hanzo has pulled his shirt back on correctly but the front is open and showing off everything he has to offer.

Like his cock, half-hard and wet at the tip. Genji had never thought he’d ever get to see his brother like this. Aroused. It’s weird and exciting at the same time.

“You’re smoking,” he whispers. For some reason it’s the first and only thing knocking around his head while he waits for their father to situate himself behind the desk.

Hanzo doesn’t answer, but he does smirk a little. He takes another drag and breathes the plume of smoke in Genji’s direction. It’s like the word has tilted on its axis and he’s tumbled right into some kind of… parallel universe. One where Hanzo isn’t a stickler for the rules and gets fucked by their father.

“Genji.”

Genji’s attention snaps back to Sojiro. He automatically stands a little more straight. He’s never been afraid of the big head of the Shimada clan, but Sojiro wields respect as easily as their guards do their firearms.

It’s nigh impossible not to react to it in some way.

“Where have you been, son?”

Sojiro looks grave as he slowly looks Genji up and down again, taking in his outfit. The corners of his mouth pull down just a little more but that’s all he allows himself to show outwardly.

Genji swallows. He wants to be bratty and dismissive like he usually is, but he still feels caught on the wrong foot with Hanzo standing _right there_ , naked and freshly fucked. He probably didn’t get to come because Genji interrupted them…

It is a weird thing to think about. He’s dreamed about it so often, yes, but actually having it happen is-

“No answer, I see.” Sojiro slowly weaves his fingers together in front of him on the surface of his desk. “Genji. Look at me.”

Genji jerks back at attention, flushing when he realizes he’s been caught staring at his own brother. Sojiro’s dark eyes bore into him. It’s impossible to tell what he is thinking – as per usual.

“I have asked you not to go out again. But I can see it has fallen on deaf ears. As so often.” His gaze becomes more calculating. He acts like nothing at all has happened just ten minutes ago. Like he hasn’t fucked Hanzo on that very table while berating a guard.

“Rules and punishments do not work. You react rather poorly to both. Neither has… fatherly concern kept you from disgracing the family name with your playboy attitude. Which has left me with very little options.”

Genji starts to sweat, nervously licking his upper lip. He feels caught on the wrong foot. He’s thought father would want to discuss with him what he’s seen, and not this old spiel. Sojiro behaves as if he has forgotten about his eldest standing behind him.

There’s some motion that Genji sees from the corner of his eyes. When he peeks back at Hanzo, his brother has taken to pleasuring himself, the cigarette hanging artfully from the corner of his mouth as he uses one hand on his cock and the other to gently tweak one of his nipples.

“Genji!” Sojiro’s sharp voice has him snapping back to attention. Again. His father looks angry now – he usually doesn’t make it a habit of having to repeat himself. Genji flushes and tries his best to keep staring at him even though he is now painfully aware of Hanzo touching himself just at the edge of hsi field of vision.

Sojiro narrows his eyes at him thoughtfully, then slowly stands up.

“You have not been aware of all of your brother’s duties, which is to be expected. You were not designed to be privy of this aspect of his work. As is, I felt the need to let you know in order to strike a deal.”

Genji blinks slowly, brain seemingly lagging behind by a thought or two.

Hanzo’s… duties? He wants to look at his brother again but Sojiro is commanding his attention now.

Father looks pleased at that. He extends his hand and Hanzo takes it without hesitation, the cigarette palmed away to God knew where. He is pulled in front of Sojiro and held there like a prize while the both of them stare at Genji, openly challenging now.

“I don’t understand… what is…”

“It is easy, brother,” Hanzo finally pipes up. He seems to stare right to Genji’s soul. Like he knows every thought he’s ever had. Every dream. Of them fucking.

As Sojiro’s hand slides around to grasp his son’s erection, gently rubbing his thumb over the tip, Hanzo says with a raspy voice: “It is my duty to ensure deals are running satisfactory for the clan; and to keep spirits up.”

He tilts his head back some, eyes never leaving Genji’s face as Sojiro’s tight grip slides down his cock, exposing the shiny red tip of his cock. Genji’s heart is beating so fast, head aching as he tries to understand what the two of them are saying.

“You… are… you are being whored out?” he finally says weak. Hanzo pulls a face and Sojiro clicks his tongue.

“Nowhere near as mundane as that.”

Father lifts his free hand, fingertips lightly sliding along Hanzo’s jaw line, pausing at his chin and tipping it up more until his head is leaning back against Sojiro’s shoulder, his pale throat exposed.

“He is a gift. A precious boon. A reward for all that impress us.” Sojiro’s dark eyes slide back to Genji. There’s a fire in them that Genji has never seen before. It makes his body heat up in reaction, mouth running dry in anticipation of Sojiro’s next words: “He can be a reward to you, Genji.”

Genji lists forward as if drawn to Hanzo.

He finally allows himself to watch shamelessly; looking as Sojiro pleasures his eldest slowly, Hanzo’s slim hips twitching and rocking into the touches. There’s a flush slowly crawling up the dragon’s belly, into his throat, and finally his cheeks. He’s not as unaffected by all of this, after all.

“All you need to do. Is listen. And behave.”

Sojiro lightly squeezes the tip of Hanzo’s cock. Hanzo makes a sound somewhere between a moan and gurgling, body shuddering.

“Genji- _please_.”

It sounds so sincere, Genji can’t help but stretch his arm out. He wants to touch. He _needs_ to touch.

Sojiro clicks his tongue and steps back, taking Hanzo with him.

“First, you need to behave. It is all on you, whether you will get what you desire, Genji. What you _both_ desire.”

Hanzo shudders. He lifts his head like it is a difficult task, staring directly at his brother. There’s nothing aloof about him in that moment; just an honest need to have his baby brother play with him.

“Please,” he whines again.

Sojiro smiles, all sharp teeth.

“A month without a single missstep, and you may play. Break the rules, and the clock is set back to zero. It is as easy as that. It is _your_ choice, Genji.”


End file.
